Orchard of Mines: Forgotten Retentions Remastered
by Puddlejumper64
Summary: Lyle Connaway is trying to get by in his hometown of Midvale, when a mysterious group of strangers, known as the Symphonians, suddenly arrive in town, looking for a friend of theirs who supposedly arrived first. Lyle decides to help them, but the situation complicates when assassins target them, suggesting their arrival is far less coincidental than they first believed.


Forgotten Retentions Remastered

Chapter 1

(Note: This is a crossover involving Tales of Symphonia, Fullmetal Alchemist, and D. Gray-man.)

To forget or to die—he couldn't decide which was better. But the memory was already gone. _Does that mean I'm going to live?_ he thought. He supposed he should feel relieved, but all he felt was dread. Death seemed like a release compared to whatever he was going back to. _No, I can't die. For the sake of everything decent within these worlds, I_ must _live._

 _Worlds?_

His eyes opened. He was floating in a void that seemed to have no beginning or end. An orange light suffused the air around him, like that of a setting sun, but it came from everywhere and nowhere; no shadows existed in this place. Thousands of boulders hovered around him, some nearby, most far away. _What is this place? Where am I?_ He felt as if he knew the answer, but couldn't recall, and for reasons beyond his understanding, couldn't bring himself to try hard to remember.

As he looked around, a boulder slowly drifted by. Compelled as if by instinct, he grabbed onto the edge, noting that it felt solid and rough. _Could all this be real, then? Or Is this a dream that_ feels _real?_

Suddenly, it began lurching violently. He held on, pulling his body onto its surface, but his grip was lost and he slid off. He gritted his teeth, expecting the burn that came with scrapes, but felt nothing.

Then he saw something that wasn't there before. Far off in the distance, a mountain of writhing and pulsating tendrils stretched across the void at an impossible length, all darker than black. It seemed like millions upon millions of small creatures, but in fact, it was one gigantic entity.

 _Entity…_ That word, with the image accompanying it, made him remember. The flood of memories was too much. The pain, the misery, the anguish, the torment… Everything was crashing down on him at once, and pushed his mind down into the depths of madness. He grasped his head with both hands and squeezed tightly, as if that would somehow block the stream of consciousness.

The tendrils in the center of the Entity began fusing and transforming. For a brief moment, a massive area on its surface was as smooth as glass. Then it split down the middle and parted, revealing an eye underneath.

He knew what was about to happen, but didn't care enough to resist, or even be terrified. Everything he remembered was unbearable, both what was inflicted on him and what he inflicted on others. Any happy moments were vastly overshadowed by the dark deeds. _No,_ he decided, _forgetting is too easy—but death is a just punishment._

Appendages shot out from around the eye and spiraled closer together, until they formed a spear-like point, aimed directly at his heart. But with its size and speed, it would probably obliterate his entire body. As he closed his eyes and waited for the end to come, he felt oddly dissatisfied. Something about dying here was different from dying elsewhere.

It screamed towards him. It grew louder... _louder…LOUDER…_

Silence.

When he reopened his eyes, he saw that the point hovered less than an inch before his chest. Then it pulled back slightly and morphed into an offering hand. Without entirely realizing what he was doing, he chose to accept. He no longer cared whether it was messing with him or not. Any kind of release would be welcome.

When he grasped its hand, several smaller tendrils extended from its wrist and wrapped around his own. The ends had small, baby-like hands, unlike the original. He was wrenched towards the monster with such speed and acceleration that, if he were anywhere else, it would've torn his arm off. It guided him between the floating rocks, drawing him ever closer to the Entity. It wished to be expedient this time.

Once the eye filled his entire viewpoint, he was released. Inertia would carry him the rest of the way. There was no going back now. He would accept whatever fate the entity had in mind for him, no matter how cruel or merciful it was. As he plunged headfirst into the black of the eye, he had one last thought.

 _Please forgive me._

The next thing he knew, he felt coarse fabric scratching against his skin, with his head propped up on something far more comfortable. His eyes popped open, almost afraid of what he would see. The only source of light was a window above him, open to the outside air. The ceiling was cracked and decrepit, and the air was moderately warm and dry. Despite this, he was covered in cold sweat. His eyes began to drift. Once they settled on the face of a sleeping young woman, he recognized her. He couldn't recall anything specific, save for one moment.

 _They were standing in a dark hallway, the only source of light a yellow glow from around the corner. The faintest of rumbles reverberated through the air—the tracks of a battalion of tanks. They were strangely muted, but getting closer._

 _She took off a heart-shaped necklace; it was black in the very center, grey in the middle layer, and white along the fringes. Holding it out to him, she said, "Here. This belongs to you."_

 _He hesitated, but accepted it. After a few more words passed between them, she disappeared around the corner. Soon after, the light vanished. Only the rumbling could be heard now, apart from the rapid footsteps. He put the necklace on and turned to face whoever—or whatever—was approaching…_

He couldn't remember what happened next. His eyes trailed downward, and then realized his head was resting in her lap. He felt his cheeks change color as several thoughts crisscrossed and tangled in his brain. More than ever, he was tempted to wake her and ask some of his many, many questions, but the calm serenity in her face quieted his chaotic mind. She also seemed much more exhausted than usual—not that he really remembered what usual was. Regardless, she needed her sleep. As slowly and carefully as he could, he raised his head, but a sharp inhale from the girl told him he'd failed.

He hesitated, unsure whether staying as he was or sitting up abruptly would offend her, or even if she would be offended at all. She looked down at him and blinked the sleep from her eyes. They stared at each other for a while, unsure of what to make of the other.

Suddenly, she gave a weak and tired laugh and said in a hoarse, sleep-filled voice, "I was expecting more of a surprise than confusion."

This only confused him more. Temporarily storing what she said in his mental vault, he asked instead, "Uh…this may seem like a strange question, but is this weird?" He gestured to indicate his head on her lap.

Her eyes looked away briefly. "Um…no, I don't think so…"

"Uh…okay. Is it alright if I sit up?"

"I…don't see why it wouldn't be…"

He sat up and leaned against the concrete wall that the bed was set against and nervously rubbed his forehead. As if that wasn't awkward enough, he suddenly realized that he was wearing little more than a thin shirt and boxers. And there was nothing to cover him nearby, not even a sheet on the bed. She added, "I'm sorry if that was uncomfortable. It doesn't have to happen again. When they brought you in here, the warden had your blankets and pillows taken away, so I thought…" She sighed. "I'm sorry. It doesn't have to happen again."

"Warden?" He began taking in the surroundings: an empty bucket sat in the corner by the bed, the walls were filthy and cracked like the ceiling, and the door was rusted and thick. He almost leapt out of his seat when he saw the guard standing in the corner, with a rifle in his hands. _Was he just standing there the whole time?_

When he realized where he was, he leaned back against the wall, in shock. "How did I end up in a place like this?"

"You don't remember? It was from…yesterday."

He lowered his head and spoke in a more somber tone. "Look, I…I can be straightforward and honest with you, right?"

"Yes, of course."

"I don't even remember what my name is right now."

She fell silent. He slowly brought his gaze back up, and saw the shock and concern in her eyes. Keeping silent, he instead asked the question with his eyes. She responded, "Your name is Lyle Connaway, and mine is Colette Brunel. Does that help?"

"That… _sounds_ right."

"How much do you remember?"

"Very little."

He briefly described what happened in the vision, but when he got to the part about the massive black creature, Colette interrupted, "Made of tendrils?"

Lyle snapped his attention back to her. "How'd you know?"

"Did he hurt you in any way?"

 _He?_ "Well…in a sense, I think. I recall seeing it, but everything after that is a haze. I can't remember most of what happened, except… I think I was terrified. I kept thinking, 'Stop, stop, stop!'"

"Then…you remembered?"

"I think so… But if that's true, then my memories are gone again."

"Oh… I'm really sorry."

"What are you sorry for? If what I remembered was truly as bad as all that, wouldn't it be better to let it remain forgotten?"

Her eyes grew distant and filled with pain. "I think even the worst memories help shape who we are as people. If you don't remember everything, then you'll never truly be complete. That's why I'm sorry."

Lyle turned her words over in his mind, then glancing around the cell, he said, "Colette…"

"Yeah?"

The words didn't come easy. "Why am I in prison?"

She hesitated. A couple times, she opened her mouth only to close it again. Lyle dreaded learning the truth more and more until finally, she brought her hands to her face and shook her head. "I can't say it out loud. I just can't… I'm so sorry."

"Okay. That's fine, then. Don't worry about it."

"I'm still…"

The distant scrape of metal, followed by voices engaged in a heated argument interrupted her. Lyle couldn't make out what they were saying, but recognized the voices of a man and woman.

As soon as the door to the cell began to open, the guard aimed his rifle at Lyle's chest. "Whoa, what are you doing?" he asked as he flattened his back against the wall, his hands up.

"I'm not taking any chances," he responded.

The door swung inward, and the voices suddenly grew louder and clearer. Three people stepped inside. The first was a tall, well-built man. His red hair was messy, as if he had just woken up, and dirt and stitches marred otherwise regal travel clothing. Despite looking somewhat worn, there was great confidence in his eyes and the commanding posture demanded respect. The sword he carried on his belt was forked near the hilt, but the strangest part was that it had a guard in the shape of reptilian wings and a blue gem in the shape of an eye where the guard and hilt crossed. Lyle remembered this man's name—Kratos Aurion—and more.

 _Both of their blades were drawn and covered in blood. They were physically exhausted, and the heat of the morning sun was already beating into them. Lyle would've been overwhelmed with grief, had he not been filled with ungodly wrath._

 _He charged at Kratos and their blades clashed, pitting them in a sword lock. Their eyes met. Through this, he saw that Kratos was giving him a choice—surrender or die. But there was a third option, and Lyle chose it. He pushed Kratos away, then brought it down with the full intention of cutting him down._

"Good morning," Kratos said.

"Good morning," Colette replied.

Lyle hesitated, unsure whether that was meant for just her or both of them. "Uh—good morning," he said lamely. Kratos seemed to study him briefly, but turned his attention to the screaming match going on behind him. Lyle glanced at Colette. She seemed pleased to see him, so does that mean he's a friend? Regardless, he resolved to keep a close eye on Kratos.

The man who was arguing had a round, sausage-like face that was red with rage. He held a cane in his hand, which he was frantically waving around. Lyle couldn't remember him, but the voice of the girl, whose back was turned to him, was very familiar.

"…trying to justify his actions!" he shouted.

" _Justify?_ I'm not trying to 'justify' anything."

"That's exactly what you're doing."

"I'm not. I just want you to stop mistreating my friend!"

"He doesn't deserve such luxuries."

"What, clothing is a luxury now?"

"His clothes are confined, pending an investigation."

She scoffed. "What is there to investigate? _Everyone_ knows what happened. If you won't give Lyle his clothes back, Warden, then at least give him _something!"_

His voice lowered. "I will not."

Her hands curled into fists. Lyle saw the muscles around her jaw tighten.

"You're lucky he's alive at all. If it were up to me, I would've executed him long ago. But it isn't, and so he remains." He paused, a hint of satisfaction sliding across his face. "Yes, if it were up to me, he would die, and the rest of you would rot here for wanting to help that monster."

As that last word repeated itself over and over in his mind, he felt his stomach double in weight. It struck a very unpleasant chord for Lyle, far more than it should have.

But he snapped out of his thoughts when the girl's knuckles collided with the Warden's face. The cane bounced from his hands as he fell against the wall and to the ground, a patch of red forming on his cheek. Lyle was initially shocked by the sudden attack, but was then moved. Though he felt the violence was unnecessary, there was no doubting her loyalty.

Kratos opened his mouth when he saw the guard in the corner whirl his rifle around to aim at the girl. Quicker than Lyle's eyes could follow, he bounded towards him and grabbed hold of the barrel, pointing it towards the ceiling. He clutched it with only one hand, but Rowen's two hands couldn't break his grip. No amount of effort showed on his face.

"Stop, both of you!" Kratos commanded. Everyone stilled. "Do either of you really think this will improve our situation? We need to _decrease_ tensions, not increase them. Marta, step away from him."

Lyle perked up. _Marta… Marta Lualdi._

"But you heard—" she said.

" _Now_ , Marta."

She sighed and reluctantly took a few steps back, crossing her arms.

He turned to the guard. "Lower your weapon, Rowen." Only once Kratos knew for sure that he'd comply did he finally let go of the barrel. Rowen didn't say a word, but maintained a tight grip on his rifle.

"Despicable," Marta said. She finally turned around, so Lyle got a good look at her face.

 _They cut through one creature after another. They were insect-like in appearance, but bounded and swarmed like a pack of beasts, overwhelming the crew members and tearing them to bloody shreds. But they couldn't quite overtake Lyle and Marta. As he decapitated one, sliced off the forelegs of another, and thrust his blade into another, the flashes from behind reflected off the bulkheads. He was so engrossed in the frenzy of battle that it wasn't until he saw a flash of white in the jaws of one of the retreating bigger ones that he realized what happened. Marta's body was being carried away. Lyle's blood froze in horror when he saw this, but hope rekindled when he saw how little of Marta's own blood had fallen. He redoubled his efforts, attempting to cut a path through the never-ending swarm of monsters. Ignoring the injuries sustained and the burning in his arms, he pressed on._

 _He wasn't going to lose anyone else._

Strangely, Lyle had a feeling that Marta didn't quite make it out of that okay. But he shook it off. _She's standing right there, of course she made it out okay_. Just like the others, he could tell she was worn down, but had more of a spark in her eyes, and not just that of anger.

"You must have a lot of questions."

Lyle didn't realize that Kratos was talking to him. "What? Oh…yeah, honestly, I'm…I'm not sure where to start." He rubbed his forehead. "Maybe someone could tell me why I was locked up?"

Kratos furrowed his brow. "You don't remember…?"

"No. Apart from a few pieces here and there, I don't remember anything."

Marta's anger was gone in an instant. "Oh, Lyle…"

The Warden got back on his feet, cane in hand, but didn't say a word. Lyle couldn't read the expression on his face.

Kratos took a deep breath and spoke in a melancholic voice. "What do you remember?"

"Well, the first thing I remember is waking up in an…endless abyss of sorts. There was a monster there, and it was massive." Kratos raised his head so slightly that Lyle thought it might've been his imagination. "It extended a tendril, I grabbed it, and then it pulled me into it. After that, I woke up here. I saw a memory flash of Colette, when she was handing me a necklace. And then when I saw Marta's face, I remembered both of us battling these…aliens, I think?"

"Do you remember anything about me?"

"Only your name, Kratos Aurion."

He narrowed his eyes. Lyle grew nervous. "I see. It's strange how those memories returned right away, and yet nothing else has..."

"Lyle, you were born in Midvale, do you—?"

"Marta!" Kratos interrupted, causing her to jump.

 _Midvale,_ Lyle thought. _It's familiar, but beyond that…_

"While I applaud your eagerness, bringing his memories back in such a manner would likely do more harm than good. Remember when he looked upon the giant beast? The memories returned to him then and he nearly lost his mind. Then he forgot them all over again. No, we must approach this with more caution than that."

"You can help him, right, Kratos?" Colette asked.

"I'm afraid not. Psychiatry has never truly appealed to me, so I never studied it. I know some things, but only enough to know that this is beyond me. We need an expert."

"What about Rose? She may know some people who can help."

"Yes, it's worth a try. I'll look for Hohenheim. He's an alchemist, but he's knowledgeable on a variety of subjects. At the very least, it'd be a good start. Speak to Rose and we'll meet back in an hour."

"What about me?" Marta asked. "Is there anything I can do?"

"We're better suited to search them out, and we can do it quicker in the air. Stay here for now." Then he whispered something in her ear that Lyle couldn't make out. Her expression grew more and more solemn until she finally nodded in acknowledgement.

They left and the Warden followed, who closed the door and locked it behind him. Lyle turned to Marta. "They have a flying machine or something?"

She laughed. "No, they're angels, you—" Suddenly, she clapped her hand over her mouth, looking almost terrified.

"Angels?" She just stared at him. "What?"

She pulled her hand away and spoke slowly. "Did you remember something?"

"Um…no. Not this time."

Marta sighed with relief. "Oh, good. I mean, not that it's good that you're not remembering, it is pretty bad, but it could be worse, right?" She chuckled lightly.

Lyle sat down on the bed. He refused to acknowledge it as his own. "How am I supposed to know?"

"…Right, sorry."

He swallowed nervously. "Marta?"

"Yeah?"

Lyle glanced at Rowen, who was as still and silent as ever, then beckoned Marta closer. She sat down next to him and he whispered, "I can trust you, right?"

Her expression grew more serious when she felt the weight of those words. "Yes, of course."

"Do you promise not to tell Kratos what I'm about to ask you?"

She hesitated. "Okay…I promise. What is it?"

"Did Kratos and I try to kill each other?"

Marta leaned back slightly, her face more grim than ever. "Lyle… I'm sorry, I really am…but we shouldn't talk about this. In fact, it's best that we don't speak at all."

Lyle nodded, disheartened. He knew this was to prevent his memories from haphazardly surfacing, and that Marta wasn't very happy about it either, but that didn't make it any more pleasant. He wanted to talk. He wanted to learn. He wanted to get his worries and fears off his chest. Most of all, he wanted to rediscover his identity.

"Just know that I'm not going anywhere."

Marta's words cut through Lyle's maelstrom of thoughts and calmed them. He smiled at her to say thank you; she smiled back.

He returned to his thoughts, mulling on the few memories he regained. However, the hunger to learn more returned, far sooner than he would've believed. That was when he realized that he won't be satisfied until he remembers everything.


End file.
